


Returns

by Much_Ado_Abt_Novels



Series: Mechanics and Mandalorians [7]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Breeding Kink, Din rambles when he's lost blood, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pregnancy Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28194822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Much_Ado_Abt_Novels/pseuds/Much_Ado_Abt_Novels
Summary: Each time Din returns from a hunt is different from the last. Sometimes he's tired. Sometimes he's injured. Sometimes he's so eager to see you again that he jumps right in your bed.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Reader, Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Series: Mechanics and Mandalorians [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052387
Comments: 33
Kudos: 432





	Returns

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of a series, but it can be read on its own.

Din disappeared on hunts for days, sometimes weeks. You lived in transient in-between states, waiting for him either to arrive or to leave. When he was with you, the _Razor Crest_ felt warm and full of life. The three of you shared the small space comfortably, familiarly.

When he was gone, the ship seemed too small, somehow. It was counterintuitive, but his absence made the walls press in closer, brought your thoughts outside the ship and into the wider universe, wondering where he was and if he was safe. When he was gone, the vessel was confining, keeping you from where you really wanted to be.

Was it pathetic that your life revolved around him now, like a planet trapped in a sun’s gravity? His comings and goings were your time cycles. Day and night were meaningless; there was only Din being here and Din being away.

You lived for the anxious moments of his return. Sometimes he strode back up the Crest’s ramp, invigorated by a successful hunt. Sometimes he looked bone-weary as he dragged a quarry behind him. The very worst times, he stumbled inside and called for the med-pack the moment the bounty was safely stored.

Today was like that. Din had been gone ten days, a full two weeks by Galactic Standard Time. When you heard the hiss of the ramp lowering, you scrambled down the ladder to see which kind of return this would be, a blaster in your hand in case of trouble.

A burst of Yavin 8’s snow flurried into the ship before the ramp closed. Din was limping, tugging along a handcuffed man by a rope. The quarry’s eyes latched onto your blaster.

Din wasn’t very responsive, so you gestured to the carbonite chamber, keeping the blaster trained on the quarry. “Get in,” you commanded in as steady a voice as you could. Thankfully, the man obeyed. You pressed the button to freeze him.

Din sank to the ground.

You rushed to his side. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“Leg. Lost some blood,” he replied. His helmet tilted back and forth like he was struggling to keep his head up.

You grabbed the med-pack and knelt next to him. An ugly gash trailed the side of his right leg brace as if a blade had caught and dragged along the beskar. Blood soaked the pant leg. You needed to see the cut clearer, so you took off the leg brace and tried to ease open the pants at the tear. It wasn’t showing you enough. You told Din, “I need to cut this pant.”

He grunted in response, laying down as if in slow motion.

Panic pumped through you. “Stay awake,” you ordered.

You pulled his knife out of its holster and widened the tear, enlarging it so you could see the wound. You ran into the refresher for a cup of water and poured it over the cut. Some of the blood washed away. You bit your lip, staring down the wound. You weren’t an expert on injuries; how were you supposed to handle this? “I can’t tell how bad it is,” you said. “Will bacta be good enough, or do I need to sew it up?”

“Tie a tourniquet around my leg, then slather it in bacta, then apply pressure. If it keeps bleeding, there’s a cauterizer in there.” He lifted his hand enough to point at the med-pack.

Okay, now you had clear instructions. You could do this. You pulled out bandages and tied one as tight as possible around his upper thigh, above the wound. Din was achingly still. “Talk to me,” you said.

“‘Bout what?”

“Anything.” You just wanted to help keep him awake. Awake meant alive.

“The first time I knew I had feelings for you,” Din said in a low, unsteady tone, “was a few weeks after you’d joined us.”

You were shocked by his topic choice, but you didn’t stop moving. You squeezed bacta gel all along the cut and smoothed it out with your fingers. The gel was almost slimy, thicker than water but not enough to hold its shape.

“I entered the cockpit to find you passed out in my chair, curled up with the kid. He opened his eyes a little and gave me a look that said, ‘Don’t you dare disturb me.’ Then he nuzzled back into your arm. You were both goddamn adorable.”

You smiled. “I do love your little one.” You pressed a thick pad of gauze against his cut, holding it there.

Din lay still on the ground like his limbs were made of beskar, too heavy to lift. “I love watching you with him. Sometimes I think about another one, yours and mine. A little baby sucking at your breast.”

It was a good thing you didn’t have to move anymore because you had become rigid as a statue. “Oh?” you said as casually as you possibly could while your brain was screaming, trying to process his words.

He let out a laugh that was more like a grunt. “Imagine that: _two_ little terrors to keep out of trouble. We’d be busy all the time trying to wrangle them. And we’d be crowded. This ship is already too small for three.”

“Keep talking,” you said because you wanted to keep him awake for medical reasons. Purely medical reasons.

“If you had a baby, I would never want to leave. I would just stay here with you and the kids, not taking any more jobs, and then we would all starve. Or _you_ could pick up bounties. You would die immediately, but at least then I wouldn’t have to worry about your safety anymore. Just the two children you left me with. All alone and wifeless.”

You stared at him, not even attempting to hide your astonishment. Din was utterly delirious. How were you supposed to respond to these ramblings?

“How’s the leg?”

You dropped your gaze to the wound, suddenly reminded of it. There didn’t seem to be any fresh blood staining through the gauze. “It’s good. It stopped bleeding.”

“Good, good. You can undo the tourniquet and just let the bacta work. Wrap it up a little, and I’ll be good as new.”

You followed his instructions, bandaging the leg. “Do you want to try moving to the cot?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’ll just bring some blankets here, then.” You grabbed the ones from his room and yours and arranged them in a nest on the hull floor. Then you helped him shuffle onto it and lay back down. “Try to get some sleep.”

“Where’s the kid?”

“In your room. I’ll bring his pram out here.” That would make him feel better, having the baby near. You guided the floating crib into the hull, leaving it in Din’s line of sight.

“He’s all right?”

Before you could respond and reassure him, the baby peeked his head out, making an inquisitive sound.

“Hey, kid,” Din said, helmet turned toward him. “I missed you.”

The baby reached out his hands, and you picked him up, bringing him over to Din. The kid cooed in distress, squinted, and tried to touch his dad’s injured leg, but you pulled him back.

“He’s trying to heal me,” Din said. “No need, _verd’ika_ ,” he told the baby affectionately. “The worst is over. Don’t tire yourself out.”

That was news to you. The kid could make things float, you knew, but heal wounds? And Din could have let him at his leg earlier, when you were frightened that he was dying? This was a lot to take in. You were learning a _lot_ from Din now that he was talking more than you’d ever heard him talk at one time.

The monologuing was over. Din said, “I’m going to sleep now,” and passed out.

You let him rest.

\---

The bacta worked fast. Din was back on his feet and on another hunt before you could speak to him about the things he’d said. You waited for the next return with even more nervous anticipation.

He came back one early afternoon.

You were sitting with the baby on the ground, playing peekaboo. The baby loved racing over to you and pulling your hands aside to reveal your face. You’d gasp dramatically, and he’d erupt into giggles.

Din and the captured quarry walked in. The rough woman grinned, looking you up and down. “I wasn’t expecting this disgustingly domestic scene awaiting us. And I took you for a hard man, Mando.”

Din shoved her into the freezer and pressed the button.

“Are we ruining your image?” you asked, joking, but a little scared that it was true.

“Might be. But I don’t care about my image as long as I get results, and neither will anyone with half a brain.” He knelt near you both. “What are you playing?” 

“Peekaboo.”

Din’s T-visor focused on you, staring, and suddenly you realized the inappropriateness of your choice. Din would not be able to join in with fucking _peekaboo_.

“Oh! I, uh… I’m sorry. We can do something else.” Your cheeks felt hot, and you looked anywhere but at him.

“It’s all right.” He stood. “I should take a shower. Just carry on.” He vanished into the fresher before you could protest.

After that mishap, you were too embarrassed to bring up his talk of wives and more babies. You would leave it to him to clarify himself if he wanted. But you knew he wouldn’t.

\---

He left again too soon. He was always leaving too soon.

The surreal, timeless journey through hyperspace was your favorite part of every trip because the ship flew by itself, and Din could relax with you and the kid. There were no responsibilities beyond making sure he caught a little sleep. No worrying that he was being shot at, that this time, he’d never come back.

But then the blue streaks of warped spacetime solidified into stars, and Din was landing the ship and strapping on his arsenal of weapons and stepping back out into danger.

“This one might take a little longer,” he said as he parted. “Just stay in the ship as much as possible. The village a mile north should be safe enough to make short trips to for supplies, but don’t go wandering the planet.”

You agreed.

Din rubbed the baby’s ear and gave you a final nod of farewell, and then he was gone.

The ship felt too small.

You fixed a minor leak in the fuel lines and then ran a thorough check of the landing gear, tightening screws and oiling parts until they extended and retracted smoothly. Several days passed. You cleaned, first by tidying up all the rooms and then by scrubbing the floors, the consoles, and whatever exposed metal you could find. More days passed.

You were bored. And horny. Was “borny” a word? It should’ve been.

It was too quiet in this deserted sector of the planet where there was nothing to do but watch the child and think of Din. His imposing stature. His caresses in the dark. The day he’d wrapped you in his clothing and told you his name. The day you’d bandaged his leg and he’d spoken of making another child. What did that mean? Was it merely the ramblings of a man in pain who’d suffered unknown amounts of blood loss? Or had he been serious about wanting to expand your little family?

The scary thing was, you would have been open to the idea. It meant that Din saw you as a long-term partner, had thought about a future with you, and that made you glow. You hadn’t yet dared to imagine staying with him forever.

You imagined it one night, after Din had been gone for six weeks—nearly a month—and you were missing him with a deep-seated ache centered in your lower belly. The baby was safely asleep. You laid on your cot and touched yourself, picturing Din getting you pregnant.

The sound of the ramp opening jolted you out of your fantasy. Was he finally back? Right now? You’d have to put clothes on if you wanted to go greet him.

But he put away the bounty and closed up the ship in record time, then immediately sought you out. The door to your room slid open, and there he stood in all his Mandalorian glory.

You could barely breathe, he was so beautiful.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked.

“No, but I would have wanted you to anyway, after that long gone.” You reached out to him, and he stepped forward to take your hand.

He held it up for examination, and you realized that it was still wet with your slick. “Were you touching yourself? Just now?”

“Um, yes,” you admitted.

He eased your blanket to the side, exposing your naked body to the air. He cursed. “Give me one minute. Just don’t, don’t move, don’t go anywhere.” He backed out of the room, hand outstretched like he was soothing a wild animal. Then he hurried out into the ship.

You were still unsatisfied due to your interruption. He had better not keep you waiting.

The ship powered down, leaving you in complete darkness. The quiet hum of machinery was gone too; you hadn’t been aware of the background noise until it disappeared. A few tiny emergency lights remained, but you only caught them in your peripheral vision. They weren’t nearly bright enough to illuminate even your hand in front of your face. “Din?”

The door slid open again, making you jump. “I’m back,” he said. More sounds reached you: the familiar sounds of Din taking off his armor and clothes.

You realized what the pitch blackness meant just before he spoke again, this time without the voice modulation. He could take off the helmet, and you wouldn’t be able to see his face.

“Are you still there?” he asked.

“Yes. Get over here.”

He complied. Your wandering hands confirmed that he was naked and helmetless. “I missed you,” he said. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

“I’m just glad you’re back safe.”

He explored your body, too. “What were you thinking about before?”

You froze, embarrassed.

“Go on,” he prompted, rubbing his nose along your neck. “Tell me.”

“I was thinking about you.”

“Mmm. I should hope so. And what was I doing?”

To hell with it. You would just tell him the truth. “You were fucking me, and then, before you came, you told me you had taken your implant out.”

It was Din’s turn to grow still. Then, very slowly, he kneaded your thigh, working his way up to your heat. His knuckles brushed along it. “And that’s what’s got you all wet?”

You nodded before remembering he couldn’t see any more than you could. “Yes.”

“And how was I fucking you, in this fantasy?”

You sat up, pulling him into a kneeling position, and then you turned and put your back against his chest. You guided one of his hands to your neck and the other around your body, pinning you against him.

“Maker,” he groaned. Without warning, he shoved you onto your hands and knees, grabbed your hips, and lined himself up. He pushed deep inside. “You’re such a dirty little thing, getting off on the idea of me breeding you.”

A rush of heat pooled in your stomach, clenching your muscles around his dick.

He snapped his hips into yours hard. “You are so fucking hot. Have you been thinking about this for long?”

“Ever since you, _ergh_ , ever since you mentioned it while I was tending to your leg.”

He slowed, probably remembering, then picked up his pace again. “I didn’t mean to say all that. I hoped you’d forget it—prayed I hadn’t scared you off. I never thought you’d _like_ it.”

He was fucking you so good and deep, fast enough to coil up the tension inside you but not enough to send you over the edge. You could only moan in reply.

Din grabbed your shoulders and hauled you up back into the position you’d shown him, still thrusting. His right arm trapped yours against his body, and his left hand rested on your neck, not squeezing but threatening with its mere presence. Din bit your ear. “You want me to hold you still while I fuck a baby into you, huh?”

“Din, shit, yes.”

“I’m going to fill your pussy with my cum. You know, you never checked if I still had the implant.”

Your brain buzzed. Could he have…? But when…? You reached around, trying to feel for the little bump on his waist.

He grabbed both your wrists, stopping you. “I’ve wanted this for a while. Wanted you to carry my kid in your belly.” The hand on your throat slid down to your stomach, broad fingers fanning out. “And you’re such a good girl. You would take it, right, _cyar’ika_?”

You nodded, breathless with the dark and the fear and the tingling excitement. You were close to coming, and you knew that your orgasm would likely trigger his. This was your last chance to beg him to pull out. You didn’t. “Din, I’m coming. Din!”

He fucked you through the delicious waves of your climax. It rippled out from your center, burning at every place his skin touched yours. He let out little masculine grunts and gripped your wrists tighter, and then he was spilling into you, hot and thick and everything you had fantasized about.

He held you tight, and for several tense seconds, you wondered if he was going to let you go. Then, of course, he did, laying you gently down on the cot. “Are you all right?” he asked. His whole demeanor had become tender.

Your body was still quivering. “Yes. Did you really take it out?”

“Gods, no.” He guided your hand until you felt the little device planted just under his skin. “I would never do something like that without talking it over with you first.”

Relief swept through you like a tidal wave. Relief and a strange regret. “It was hot, though, the way you talked about it.”

“Yeah? Good.” He enveloped you in his arms.

You snuggled closer to him, relishing his nakedness and warmth. In time, your breathing evened out, and you felt sleep reaching out its arms for you. Before you drifted off, you said, “Maybe one day we can talk about it a little more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a translation:
> 
> verd’ika [vair-DEE-kah]: "private" or "little soldier"; affectionate term for a child  
> cyar’ika [shar-EE-kah]: "darling," "sweetheart"


End file.
